In Too Deep
by Eleantris
Summary: Alex and Gene have been torn apart, and all that's left behind is burning guilt and a heavy load of regret. Songfic based after Series 2, written to Genesis' 'In Too Deep'. Now AU due to the start of series 3.


_**Hi, I've been pondering over writing a songfic to this song for a while now and today I finally decided to go for it. Please tell me what you think and I hope you enjoyed the launch of Series 3 tonight – it was amazing! Scared me to the bone, but amazing!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes, and these lyrics belong to the fantastic Genesis. **_

_**In Too Deep**_

* * *

"Life is an amazing thing, you know, Alex," Evan told her softly as he sat down beside her on the sofa. The pale orange glow of the streetlamps outside seeped through the edges of the curtains and mixed with the soft light of the lamp as it played in Alex's hair and danced across her forlorn face. It served as a reminder for her, an anchor...to stop the shadows from consuming her.

Alex glanced up at him, her eyes looking lost. Well, maybe she was; stuck between two times, two people....two separate pieces of her heart. "Is it?" She questioned, looking back down again.

He nodded, reaching out for her hand. Her eyes had lost their fire, their youth, their vigour. It hurt him to see her like this. "You woke up," he said, squeezing her hand, "you didn't die. You came back. I think that's pretty amazing, don't you?"

Alex was silent for a moment, thinking of Molly upstairs; sound asleep in bed, safe and happy in the knowledge that her Mum was alive. "Yeah...maybe." But then her thoughts turned to Gene Hunt, still in 1982, with a criminal record no doubt pinned on him by now...she shook her head. "But then again...maybe it wasn't all a coincidence," she murmured. Evan's hand was too smooth on hers; she wanted Gene's roughened, weathered skin to caress it, for him to be the one comforting her. But how could he, when he was the reason for her grief?

Evan frowned, gently releasing her hand. "What do you mean?"

Alex shrugged slightly and put down the glass of water in her hands. "Maybe there was a reason that Layton shot me, maybe there was a reason I went back...maybe there was a reason I met _him_," she looked up at him, "but don't you see? They're all just maybes, they don't matter. What matters is that Layton did shoot me, and I did go back...and I _did_ meet him. The bigger picture isn't what's important, living in the moment is important. I should have realised that earlier."

Evan's frown deepened as he leant sideways into the back of the couch. His eyes fixed on her shining pupils. "Alex, I don't understand what you're talking about."

She shook her head, swallowing the painful lump in her throat. "It doesn't matter," she said, standing up. "I'm going to go to bed."

Evan frowned at her for another second, confusion flitting through him before his face straightened out again and he nodded. "Ok," he offered her a small smile, "see you in the morning."

Alex nodded and turned from the room, stepping into the shadows. Ever since she'd come home, she'd expected some overwhelming feeling of relief and happiness to grip her, but none had come. All she had felt since being discharged from the hospital, was regret. Regret that she hadn't taken more advantage of eighties life, regret that she hadn't tried to meet more people, make more friends, regret that she'd never succeeded in peeling away the many layers to Gene Hunt....regret that she had never told him how she felt. And as each day passed, that regret and guilt only grew into a massive, unmanageable monster and she knew it was drawing a veil between her and her daughter, but she couldn't push it aside, however much it pained her. She'd been so caught up in why she was there, how she had got there...that she hadn't ever truly stopped to just simply appreciate it all, to live in the moment. She couldn't fight a monster that big.

With a long sigh, she made her way upstairs and flicked the switch at the top, flooding the hallway with light. She walked over to Molly's bedroom and gently pushed the door ajar. Alex peered into her daughter's bedroom to see her laid, fast asleep, in bed. A small smile rested on her face as she slept and the soft, slow sound of her breathing filled the quiet room. Alex smiled slightly and shut the door again before making her way to her own dark bedroom and lying down on top of the covers, still fully clothed.

"I'm sorry, Molls," she whispered into the darkness as she rolled onto her side, a single tear escaping one eye. "But I can't help it...I learnt things there, things I can't forget. I can't help thinking that there was more I could have learnt, more I could have done and seen...." she gulped, not able to believe what she was about to say. "But I was too preoccupied with getting home."

A surge of guilt ran through her, but even as she said the words, she knew they were true. She missed the eighties, she missed CID and Gene... she missed them all just as much as she had missed her daughter while she was there.

_All that time I was searching_

_Nowhere to run to_

_It started me thinking_

_Wondering what I could make of my life_

_And who'd be waiting_

She'd kept looking and looking, scrabbling around for reasons why she was there. It was only now that she realised that she had been wasting valuable time. Because the reasons for her presence there weren't to be found in solving her parents death, or fighting Martin Summers, or even Operation Rose...the reasons had been all around her, plain for her to see. But she'd been blind. They lay in a joke that Chris cracked, some helpful advice from Shaz, a completely sexist but admittedly funny remark from Ray....and Gene. Gene Hunt. Who was that man? But the point was, she was there....because she should be, simple as that. She was there because she _belonged_.

She'd let so many precious hours trickle by as she tried to figure out his link to all this, to work out why it was him she had been drawn to. She realised too late that it didn't matter. What mattered was that her breath caught whenever he stood near; what mattered was that every time he spoke, a chill would run up and down her spine; what mattered was that her heart ached for him every night they sat in Luigi's. What mattered was that she loved him. And never got to tell him.

Alex squeezed her eyes shut and rolled onto her back, willing herself not to cry as a large hole began tearing itself in her chest and a broken piece of her smashed heart floated out. It flew back in time to Gene and settled itself within him, a piece of her, entrusted to him. She'd known it almost as soon as she saw him...she'd known this wasn't going to end well. She'd known ever since he'd sat over her, eyes still frantic with worry as she panted, body still shivering with cold from Chas Cale's freezer....she'd known ever since then, that she loved him. She'd had months, many months to tell him...yet she never had. She shook her head, swallowing self-contempt as her stomach constricted, trying to push the hole in her chest back together. Why hadn't she ever told him? There were a million questions she could ask herself, but at the end of the day, he wasn't there to answer them. Her eyes fluttered to a close as the solitary tear dried on her cheek.

_Asking all kinds of questions_

_To myself_

_But never finding the answers_

_Crying at the top of my voice_

_And no-one listening_

She was laid still, a soft sheet beneath her and thin pillow under her head. A strange kind of nothingness surrounded her, like bright white light...its powerful glow almost hurting her eyes. She tried to close them, but that hurt too...she felt like someone had plunged their hand into her gut and spread their fingers, turning her blood to ice.

And it was cold; it was so cold; and lonely. Where was she? She opened her eyes again, hoping to see something familiar, some kind of colour. But there was still nothing. Just white. Just plain, endless, bright white. It didn't matter how much she strained her eyes, nothing changed.

But then, without any prompting, something shifted. Not her surroundings, and not the light....but the loneliness. Something warm enveloped her hand, rubbed against her palm....coarse skin caressed the back of her hand as the warmth slowly spread up her arm, thawing the ice in her veins. A low voice drifted through the nothingness to her; a low, gruff voice. A voice she knew well. A voice she yearned to hear.

"Yer've got t' wake up, Bolly," he murmured as she felt him squeeze her hand. "Yer know I didn't mean t' shoot yer, don't you? Yer know I'd never do a thing like that, Bolls. I can't lose yer...what will I do without yer, Bolly? Yer a pain in the arse, but yer _my_ pain in the arse. I don't want you to go."

His cracked whisper penetrated through to her core, twisting her spine as her body convulsed. She wanted with every fibre of her being to wake up, to see his face and to reach out...to tell him it was alright, that she wasn't going anywhere. To tell him those three words that she'd never had the courage to say.

He'd said that they were the ones that had a connection. They did...she knew they did. It was there every time she gazed into the stormy depths of his eyes; it was there every time her skin accidently brushed his. And it was there each time she looked over at him in Luigi's and wanted to press her lips to his, just for a taste...just for a glimpse of what they were, of what they could be.

_All this time, I still remember everything you said_

_There's so much you promised, how could I ever forget?_

Alex's eyes flew open and she sat up, instinctively turning to the side, wanting to see his face. But he wasn't there. With a sharp, sinking feeling of hopelessness, she took in her darkened bedroom, the plain furniture, the thick curtains, the cream sheets beneath her body. 2008. Home....or at least, that's what she used to call it.

Before she'd even had time to gather her thoughts and tell herself that it was just a dream, just a perfect, glorious dream, she was crying. A ragged, broken sob escaped her mouth and she wrapped her arms around the hole in her chest, tears streaming down her face as she whispered his name like a prayer....wanting, needing his hand in hers again. She wanted that warmth, that comfort, his soft, pleading words. She filled her lungs with air and squeezed her eyelids together as the knife of guilt twisted deeper in her stomach.

She shouldn't want it.

She shouldn't want his voice, or his touch, or his cigarette smoke and whiskey smell....she should want strawberry shampoo, and Girls Aloud, and begging to go shopping. She should want her daughter in her arms and to be alive. She should want Molly. Not Gene. She was a terrible mother...and a selfish person.

But with another rasping sob, she realised that she wanted them both and nothing was ever going to stop her wanting those two people. They each possessed half of her soul, and that left her with nothing. More tears flooded her already wet face as her head lolled forward, as though it were too emotionally draining to hold it up. "I want you, Gene..." she whispered, clutching at the bedclothes, willing him to appear. "Why can't I have you both....?" she swallowed but it did no good, the air in her lungs had turned to concrete. She was sinking, and sinking fast...there was no treading water this time.

_Listen, you know I love you, but I just can't take this_

_You know I love you, but I'm playing for keeps_

_Although I need you, I'm not gonna make this_

_You know I want to, but I'm in too deep_

"I love you..." She sobbed into the darkness, her hair matting with tears as she slumped forwards, curling into a tight ball. "I love you...." Her words were meant for two people as they dissolved into the warm, still air.

She wondered if he believed her now, or if he'd just run away. She remembered the feel of his eyes burning through her as she told him the truth, she remembered his ice cold rejection and order that she get out of his sight. The pain hit all the deeper now he was gone. There wasn't even a chance to make amends, to prove it to him, to show him that she loved him. It was gone, he was gone. And no amount of wishing or crying was ever going to bring him back. She felt like she'd lost an organ, a vital piece of her that kept her functioning normally. And now, she was left as a broken, empty mess on the bed, crying a river of tears.

"I'm sorry, Molly...I'm a bad Mum...forgive me, for wanting him..."

_So listen, listen to me_

_Oh you must believe me_

_I can feel your eyes go through me_

_But I don't know why_

* * *

Gene stared down at their hands, her smaller one in his. His warm fingers were intertwined with hers, unmoving, inert. He sighed. The one time he could hold her hand, and she wasn't conscious. Well that was just sod's law. And, it seemed, the story of his life. The one time he had ever come close to loving someone, and he went and bloody screwed up.

He knew that the bullet presently lodged in her gut was his doing, he knew it was his finger that had pulled the trigger; and the knowledge only hit him as if he'd taken the bullet himself. He sighed. He wished that he had taken it. There hadn't been a minute gone by in the past week that he didn't wish he'd taken it instead, thought that, of course, was impossible.

"C'mon Bolls, I haven't been nagged in over a week; I might start gettin' withdrawal symptoms," he told her, wishing that at any minute she'd open her eyes, just to scowl at him. But still, as ever, she remained completely oblivious.

He fell into a solemn silence, the only sound being his breathing next to her shallow breaths as he rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand, praying to Gods he didn't believe in that she would wake up soon.

She'd said she was the future, though he couldn't find it within his realistic, no nonsense nature to believe that. But either way, she was leaving him. And he couldn't stand it. What was he supposed to do without her? It had been just one week, and already CID was noticing a difference without her. The place was quieter, for a start. It was like there was a massive hole that only she could fill, and no matter how hard the stand-in DI tried, she could never be replaced. DI John Milton, at the grand age of fifty-seven, didn't have a patch on Alex's intelligence, let alone her good looks.

"Did it mean, anything, Alex?" he asked quietly, a deep sense of reverence burning through him as he used her real name. "Us...you an' me, y'know...in Luigi's each night, gettin' hammered. Did it mean anything t' you?" He looked down at their hands again, not able to look at her unresponsive, pale yet still heartbreakingly beautiful face for long. "Because it meant something t' me...."

_Oh I know you're going_

_But I can't believe_

_It's the way that you're going_

_It's like we never knew each other at all_

_It may be my fault_

He should have told her; should have just said that he enjoyed it, that he treasured whatever tentative relationship they shared. He should have said that he wanted more, rather than just hinting at it. The regret and loss bubbled in his stomach, mixed with burning guilt and rage at himself...a dangerous mixture.

She was always upset; always talking about home and Molly...he should have asked more. He should have been there for her, rather than just allowing her to trudge upstairs to her poky flat to sit it out in tearful silence. He didn't want to, but there was always something that held him back from following her up those familiar stairs...the team, someone buying him a drink, Luigi's damn expectant gaze as he practically willed him to follow her.

But then, he'd just taken her massive presence for granted. It was a funny thing, time...the more it took someone away from you, the more you learnt to appreciate them. But just as you began to recognise how important they were to you, time whisked them away. He shook his head and corrected himself. "Nah, time didn't take you away, Bolly," he swallowed, eyes hard as he dragged his gaze back up to her face, "I pushed you."

_I gave you too many reasons, being alone_

_When I didn't want to_

_I thought you'd always be there_

_I almost believed you_

"I miss yer, Bolls," he murmured, lips twitching into a rueful smile. "There. I said it. Will yer wake up now? 'Cause I'm getting real twitchy sat 'ere in this hospital...they won't let me smoke. 'Ope yer know what I'm giving up." He didn't resent not being able to light up at all, but it was something to say. Something that might persuade her to open those wide, beautiful eyes so that he could tell her....

She once said that people in comas can sometimes hear what their friends and loved ones are saying to them, that they can remember their voices and that can be the anchor to pull them back to consciousness. The only thing was, did he still count as a friend and loved one after that pulled had penetrated her smooth, perfect skin?

He gazed at her, a lump in his throat as he thought of everything she'd told him, everything he'd learnt from her. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he had learnt a lot from her...tiny parts of her personality and methods had somehow crept into his own soul, changing him more than he could ever have dared to imagine. But that's what she did...slipped under his skin, dug her claws in and refused to budge. He smiled slightly. "You always were a stubborn bitch, Bolly.....but yer don't have t' refuse t' wake up, just 'cause it's me telling yer to."

_All this time, I still remember everything you said_

_There's so much you promised, how could I ever forget?_

He sat there for another hour, the clock in the corner ticking the minutes by as he held her hand. His eyes traced every line and contour of her face, wanting to commit every carefully crafted feature to his memory. She was an angel, made by the God's...he felt unworthy to hold her hand, his coarse skin suddenly felt like an insulting contradiction to the supple flesh of her smooth hand.

He slipped his hand from hers and stood up, his eyes still fixed on her sleeping face. After a second's deliberation, he bent down and pressed his lips to her pale forehead, inhaling her clean, floral scent before he pulled back a little way, his mouth near her ear now. "I'm sorry, Bolly. I let yer down." He sighed, breath washing her ear. He couldn't do this; he couldn't keep coming back day after day. He was going to lose his job at this rate; she had to wake up soon. And then, he whispered those three fatal words that he swore never to utter again after his marriage crumbled and dissolved.

_Listen, you know I love you, but I just can't take this_

_You know I love you, but I'm playing for keeps_

_Although I need you, I'm not gonna make this_

_You know I want to, but I'm in too deep_

"I love you..."

* * *

The softly said words wound their ways into Alex's sleep and she woke in a tired haze, looking around her bedroom. Another dream, she told herself, wiping at her stinging eyes. Just another beautiful dream. But this one had been different; this one had felt so _real._ He'd held her hand, and pleaded with her to wake up; he'd even cracked a quiet joke or two in the hope of annoying her into consciousness. She smiled sadly, tears leaking unbidden from her eyes. "I'm sorry, too..." she whispered. "I let you down, by not waking up."

She imagined him sat there, his eyes fixed on her as he held her hand. But what could she do? She was in 2008, with a spear through her heart and a heavy brick of guilt in her stomach, weighing down on her every move. "I love you too." The words drifted out to the darkness of the bedroom, but she wished he could hear them. She longed for his touch again, for the gruff lull of his voice to fall on her ears again. For his lips to press her forehead in a gesture so gentle, she wouldn't have thought him capable of it.

_So listen, listen to me_

_I can feel your eyes go through me_

He sat in Luigi's, nursing his third whisky as he felt the team's gaze piercing into his back like a red hot poker. Luigi was watching him too with sad, disappointed eyes as he downed the last of the whisky. He wasn't sure whether it was the alcohol, or the guilt burning his throat. All his life, ever since the failure of his marriage, he'd decided he'd look after number one. And that was it. He didn't need a woman, they only nagged and wanted kids anyway....right?

But then Alex had swanned into his life and taken everything he believed in, and turned it upside down. She'd grabbed hold of his life and refused to let go, embedding herself into every inch of his soul. Suddenly, it wasn't about him anymore, it was all about her. It was about whether she was safe, whether she was happy, where she was, who she was with, what she was doing. He realised too late the reason for these thoughts. He loved her.

_It seems I've spent too long_

_Only thinking about myself_

_Now I want to spend my life_

_Just caring 'bout somebody else_

He sighed. The one woman he could picture waking up to every morning, and he'd gone and bloody shot her. "Nice one, Gene," he muttered to himself as he waved to Luigi for another whisky.

Luigi put the whisky down on the bar and he downed it in two gulps. It was as though two heavy weights were dragging down on his shoulders as the team's stares still pierced the back of his head. He let out a long sigh, the familiar smell of whisky carrying on his breath. "I can't do this," he murmured to himself.

* * *

Alex's tears dried and she realised she was all cried out, her tear-ducts empty. She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve, feeling like some heartbroken teenager, sobbing into her bed sheets. She shook her head and let out a long sigh, trying to work out why she felt so detached, why her body felt like a puzzle that hadn't quite been put back together properly.

"I can't do this," she murmured to the darkness, her eyes closing as she remembered Gene's voice, his touch, his smell.

_Listen, you know I love you, but I just can't take this_

_You know I love you, but I'm playing for keeps_

_Although I need you, I'm not gonna make this_

_You know I want to, but I'm in too deep_

* * *

_**Hope that was alright and please tell me what you think! The first episode was amazing, wasn't it? It's just a shame this is now officially marked as AU, tee hee. Jim Keats is interesting; I quite liked him...until that bit at the end. I wonder what Gene did....whatever it is; I think it's going to break the nation's hearts!**_

_**X =D**_


End file.
